


No Retreat, No Regrets

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-20
Updated: 2012-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Their lives have changed in the past year, for the bitter and the sweet. Post-<i>Vengeance</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Retreat, No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the Starz television series _Spartacus_. Title from The Gaslight Anthem’s _Meet Me By the River’s Edge_
> 
>  **A/N:** Unbeated ficlet time, as per usual.

The sun warmed Nasir’s bare back as he took account of their supplies. They were running low on oil and wine again. They could do with a replenishment of the dried meat and fruits. 

“We need more cloth for wounds,” Camilla said. “It would do us well to gather herbs. If a party can sneak into the city and secure proper medicines it would be to our advantage.”

Nasir nodded. “I will seek out Agron and ask if it can be done. He will take our concerns to Spartacus.”

“Or you can share them with me now,” Spartacus said from behind them.

Nasir turned to find the rebel leader alone. It was a rare sight these days. He held Nasir’s spear in his hand along with two water skins.

“Do you wish me to hunt or spy?” Nasir asked.

“Both. We move camp with the next dawn. I would have you seek Agron. He is off scouting on the Northern pass.”

“Scouting or contemplating?”

“A bit of both I must admit,” Spartacus said.

Camilla laughed and hid her smile behind her hand. Nasir winked at her and handed over the wax tablet with their supply lists. 

“May we borrow Naevia then? We must have a full account of our stocks before moving camp again.”

“She is with Crixus. Surely I can help,” Spartacus said.

“You,” Nasir scoffed. Mira had explicit rules about running the camp before her death. The first was never let Spartacus near the lists. Nasir saw little reason to waver from that decree but a lesson could be taught. Wars were not fought or own just by warriors alone. They would be nowhere without those who attended to their clothing, shelter, armor, food, and weapons. 

Spartacus narrowed his eyes. “I am leader of this rebellion. I am capable of organization.”

“Of battle strategies, yes,” Nasir agreed. “Of the internal running of this camp, no.”

“Why is it you former house slaves never trust me with supply lists.”

“Because we have seen what you do _with_ our supplies. Spartacus, how many people are in your forces now? In the official camp and those that follow?”

Spartacus shrugged. “I’d say five hundred at most.”

Gods save them. Nasir desperately tried not to roll his eyes. “Over a thousand already and we gain more with each day. Who do you think takes into account arms, clothing, armor, food, water, bedding, payment, entertainment, and general concerns and complaints of all those lowly rebels who have yet to meet our great leader? It is not Agron. Not Crixus. It is sometimes Gannicus if the follower is attractive enough or carrying decent wine.”

“Not even decent. He’d take flavored vinegar,” Camilla said.

Nasir nodded. “You do well to form our battle strategies, like the former soldier you are. Leave the organization of a camp to former house slaves who know well how to keep the bare necessities running.”

“I should still learn.”

“Yes, and it is not my place to tell Spartacus what he can and cannot do.”

Both Camilla and Spartacus’ expression well said their feelings on that statement.

Nasir called Aquilina over to them. “Spartacus would like to learn our process for inventory.”

Aquilina kindly smiled. “It would be my honor.”

Spartacus looked between the three of them. “Why do I feel like this is an action I will regret.”

“You have good instincts,” Nasir said. He took the water skins and spears from Spartacus. “Agron’s at the Northern Pass you say?”

“Yes.”

“Did he take one of the horses?”

“You know how he feels about them,” Spartacus said as he warily eyed Camilla and Aquilina. 

“He gets stomped once and labels them monsters for life,” Nasir agreed. “Still, I will not lose sleep before the move due to his stubbornness. May I take Nox?”

“That damnable creature only answers to you anyway. Please do, and save Castus the trouble of trying to tame her again.”

“Gratitude.” He patted Spartacus on the shoulder as he passed. “Oh, girls, be gentle with him. This is Spartacus’ first time.”

**********************

Nasir left Nox to graze on a patch of grass once he found Agron. He was perched on a rock perfectly located to spy on both the path leading down to the camp and any forces coming from the south. 

“We move with the dawn,” Agron said.

“So I was told,” Nasir said. He propped his spear on the rock and scrambled up beside Agron. “Do you not agree with the move?”

“I no longer know if it is better to stay or run,” Agron admitted. There was a defeated tone to his voice. It wasn’t a common thing to see with Agron, not out here in the open where any other eyes could catch them.

Nasir palmed the back of Agron’s neck and worked out the tension there. 

“Tell me your troubles,” he said. 

Agron’s smile was barely visible. “That sounds a command and not a request.”

“It is,” he agreed. He’d learned over this past year when it was best to let Agron dwell and when it benefitted all to force his confession. Now was not the time to brood. 

Agron leaned into Nasir’s touch, his fingers reaching up to tangle with Nasir’s hair.

“I thought of everything that’s changed in the past year, of what I’m responsible for, how life was before all this,” he murmured into the skin of Nasir’s throat. “I wish I did not care for the others, that I could take you and run for the North. Take you home to my lands and back to the goat farm.”

“Goats?”

“You protest to goats?”

“I protest to the smell. Though,” Nasir huffed out a laugh, “that explains so much of your scent.”

“One you find enticing,” Agron said.

“If you believe so.”

“You wound me.”

“You are avoiding the real problem. I will not be swayed, even by your particular skills.”

Nasir almost went back on that threat when Agron raked his teeth down the line of Nasir’s throat to his shoulder. 

“Agron,” Nasir warned.

Agron suckled the skin of Nasir’s bare shoulder.

“Agron,” he warned again.

Agron released a sigh and pulled back. When he met Nasir’s eyes they were only slightly apologetic.

“We have time alone and you seek words,” he said with a pout.

“I would gladly be your distraction if I thought it would help. It will not and I will not have you start with me only to get lost in your mind halfway through.”

Agron nodded, his short hair and the bristles of his beard causing Nasir to shiver. It wasn’t a deliberate action, Nasir knew, though Agron’s smile was far too smug.

“When I first met you the only scar you had was that on your eyebrow. Your hands were soft and so were you, in body though not in spirit. There will always be a tenderness in you but I cannot stop the thoughts of what you’ve become; what I’ve helped to make you. I carry responsibility for wounds both within and without.”

Nasir shook his head. This was his man, a constant maelstrom of anger, guilt, passion, lust, vengeance, and love. He could not pass the day without taking responsibility for someone else’s actions or words. He always keenly felt the loss of those dead and buried. Nasir wondered what he had done in his life to have him, this wonderful burden of a wounded still young boy.

He used the hand still resting on the back of Agron’s neck to force his head up. He smiled down at him, unused to this side of their height difference and leaned down to press lips against lips. There was no surprise when Agron attempted to slip tongue past teeth and Nasir let him go after a teasing nip. He rested his chin on top of Agron’s head and attempted not to laugh at how Agron was almost bowed in half. 

“You are correct,” Nasir said. “A year ago I did not know how to fight to win. I did not know how to hunt or clean game. I did not know how to ride.”

Agron snorted.

“I did not know how to ride a horse,” Nasir amended. “I did not know the feel of steel in gut or how to sew flesh in two. I did not know that the cheapest, most vile wine can taste like a blessing from the gods when you’ve had naught for weeks. I did not know how to string bows or fashion arrowheads or how to sharpen swords. I did not know German curses, Gallic songs, Thracian dances or Numidian prayers. I did not know friendship outside of shared circumstances. I did not know sex outside of obligation. I did not know passion. I did not know how to love freely and with all my heart.” Nasir paused and let those words sink into Agron’s thick skull. “You are responsible for some of that, a driving cause, if you will. All of it, outside of the freedom which was forced upon me when your liberated my villa, was my choice. If you are so desperate to apologize for such things, I would not mind a long wash and a longer lie-in once we settle in the new camp.”

“I shall endeavor to see it done,” Agron said.

“Yes, you will,” Nasir agreed. 

Agron pulled away and sat up, stretching out his long limbs. “We should go back.”

Nasir looked over his shoulder where Nox was still eating half the mountainside. He nuzzled behind Agron’s ear and let out as slow, steady breath as his hands began to undo the familiar clasps and buckles of armor.

“We have time yet.”


End file.
